


and i am feeling very calm

by thenewbacklog



Series: TMA Hurt/Comfort Week [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Blood, Caretaking, Crying, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, The Magnus Archives Hurt/Comfort Week, terrible apocalypse humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26103874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenewbacklog/pseuds/thenewbacklog
Summary: They’d set up in a clearing just outside the Hunt’s domain, close enough that they’d be able to go back for Daisy, but far enough that Martin could finally collapse. He’d stayed as calm as he could through the run-in with Trevor, through finding Basira and annoying her until she was sure it was them, through the exhausted, measured trudge to what little safety they could hope for.He really, really didn’t want anyone else seeing the breakdown he could feel coming on.Post-176, Martin doesn't have to be calm anymore.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: TMA Hurt/Comfort Week [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894885
Comments: 12
Kudos: 155





	and i am feeling very calm

**Author's Note:**

> Tuesday's h/c week fic: Treating / Distracting From Injuries

They’d set up in a clearing just outside the Hunt’s domain, close enough that they’d be able to go back for Daisy, but far enough that Martin could finally collapse. He’d stayed as calm as he could through the run-in with Trevor, through finding Basira and annoying her until she was sure it was them, through the exhausted, measured trudge to what little safety they could hope for.

Basira had left to make sure nothing had followed them out, although Martin thought she might be giving them space. Or, more likely, she needed space, he knew how hard it could be after a long time alone, or when the only people around you wanted to hurt you. Being third wheel to your old coworkers while hunting the person you cared about most probably didn’t help.

Either way, he was grateful. He really, really didn’t want anyone else seeing the breakdown he could feel coming on. Bad enough that Jon would.

He stared off in the direction Basira had gone, and shivered. He was about to pull his jacket tighter around him when Jon gently took his hands again.

“I think we can rest here. For a while, anyway.”

Jon eased him down until he was sitting on one of the bags, and crouched in front of him, digging through the other bag to find the first-aid kit Martin had packed he didn’t know how long ago.

Without Jon’s eyes on him, Martin sagged where he sat, and put his head in his hands, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes. His neck hurt. He was so tired, and he’d had to- Jon had-

His face was sticky with… oh. Oh _shit_.

His breath hitched as all the fear he’d been holding back hit him at once. Nothing had happened, in the scheme of things, but it _could_ have, it almost…

He felt hands on his arms, and let out a whine at the contact, and another when the hands drew back like he’d burned them. His hands smeared his tears into the blood drying on his face and neck as breaths turned into quiet sobs.

“Martin?” said Jon worriedly, somewhere in front of him. “Martin, hey, hey, it’s all right. Well, not _all right_ , but- can I touch you?”

Martin thought for a moment, pictured Jon’s fluttering hands and dismayed face from that first time he’d gone to pieces in the safehouse, and gave a tiny nod. He tried to slow his breathing down, tried not to worry Jon more than he already was, but it was a little late for that, wasn’t it? There was a pressure on his shoulder – Jon’s hand, he thought – and something smoothing back and forth in steady lines. He leaned into the contact, and something pressed against his forehead. An arm wrapped slowly around his back and pulled him close. He could hear Jon breathing.

It was a little while before Jon spoke again, once Martin’s sobs had turned into shaky breaths.

“Martin, can you look up for me?” Jon asked softly. “Just for a moment, so I can clean you up.”

Martin nodded again, and Jon slowly moved away. Martin sighed wetly, sniffed, and tried to wipe away some of the tears and blood before looking up.

Jon was on one knee in front of him, a little below his line of sight even when Martin was sitting. He held a small towel Martin vaguely remembered packing in one hand, stained red where Jon had already cleaned the blood off his forehead. A canteen rested on the ground next to his feet. Jon had that look Martin remembered from the Lonely, determination and fear and guilt, and something he now knew to be love.

“There you are,” Jon said quietly. “You can close your eyes, if you want. I’ve got you. And you might-” Jon grimaced. “might not want to look just yet.”

Martin hadn’t planned to close his eyes, but between the grounding pressure of Jon’s hand on the back of his head, and the slow movements of the towel against his face, he started to drift. He heard water pour onto the corner of the towel, felt it wipe at his hair before patting it dry. Felt hands pull his jacket away from his shoulders and to the side, then pause long enough that Martin opened his eyes.

Jon was back on the ground in front of him, just under Martin’s eye level. He took Martin’s hand with the one that wasn’t holding the towel, and looked at him as seriously as he had earlier when he’d asked if Martin trusted him. “I- your neck. It needs seeing to, but I don’t…”

Jon’s voice trailed off. Martin remembered after the first time Jon went missing, a lifetime ago. How Jon had kept his head down, his neck hidden as much as possible, until Martin finally convinced Jon to let him clean the cut.

Martin stared back at him for a moment, then sighed. “Right. Okay. I- sure. Do you want me to…?” He tipped his head back a little to expose his neck, wincing when it stretched the cut from Trevor’s knife.

Jon nodded, then slowly, carefully, stood up and moved his hand back to Martin’s shoulder. He kept his back to the trail they’d followed into the clearing, blocking Martin from view.

Martin shuddered when the towel touched the side of his neck, and Jon made an absent, gentle shushing noise, slowly cleaning the blood away from Martin’s neck to see the extent of the damage. When he was finally done, Jon sagged a little in relief, running a thumb back and forth over Martin’s shoulder.

“It’s- it’s not bad. But I’ll need to clean it, and it will sting.”

Martin nodded, and smiled faintly. “Probably shouldn’t- shouldn’t run around the Hunt’s domain with a cut throat, right?”

Jon smiled back, a little sadly. “Probably best not. Although I think we match, now.”

Martin looked at the scar on Jon’s neck, and huffed out a laugh. “Guess we couldn’t get t-shirts, like a normal couple.”

Jon shuddered in mock-disgust as he dug through the first-aid kit. “Good lord, no. Can you imagine?”

Martin smiled a little more steadily. “Could borrow the slogan from that mug.”

Jon almost grinned. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Which domain would even have a gift shop, do you think?”

He opened one of the packets of antiseptic wipes still left in the kit, and looked at Martin for permission before dabbing at the cut on Martin’s neck, soothing a thumb over his collarbone when he gasped at the sting.

“I- Extinction. Definitely. It – _ah_ – it was probably behind that couch.”

Jon snorted as he rummaged in the kit again. “I still can’t believe you actually sat on that thing.”

“It – oh, stop laughing – it was _fine!_ Perfectly normal couch.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you didn’t have to know what had happened to it.” Jon straightened up, and dabbed cream onto the cut before bandaging it.

“What- _no_ ,” said Martin with a horrified laugh. “The Eye showed you _that?_ ”

Jon nodded gravely, packing away the unused supplies and stuffing the wrappers in his pocket. His shoulders tensed like he was trying not to laugh.

“It does specialize in awful knowledge. I suppose,” Jon let out a theatrical sigh. “that that qualifies."

He stood, and held out a hand to help Martin up.

Martin took it, and didn’t let go.


End file.
